Main Bonus #73: The Mulligans (Patreon)

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RESOURCES:  Check out this narrative timeline graphic to visually see when this bonus scene takes place.

MUSIC: We listened to "Heroes" by Gang of Youths while writing this bonus scene.

SPOILER WARNING: There are major spoilers from NOBODY LIKE US in this bonus scene. We highly recommend reading this bonus after you've read NLU.

 IT’S EARLY. Haven’t had my morning coffee. Definitely did not wake up on the right side of the bed. To be fair though, I don’t think a right side has existed for months. I could sleep on Zeus’ mattress on goddamn Mount Olympus and still come out with a wrecked back.

I haven’t been in the mood to relax—not since the attack with Lily and Luna. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Most days I’m spending all my energy just burying those mental images so far down. When really I need to be here. Present. For my wife. My kids.

It’s why I’m half-dressed and rage-texting into my phone.

Go easy on them, Sammy.

My brother-in-law doesn’t respond back, which gives me less pause to rein myself in. I compose another text.

 If I hear you made any of my kids or nephews cry, I will start hiding dog shit in your screened porch. Don’t test me.

I hit send before I can rethink it. Regrets live so far outside my body these days, and it should scare me that guilt isn’t even an after-thought. It just doesn’t exist.

What can I say: I’m all out of fucks.

Instead of a text back, my phone buzzes in my palm. I groan softly and answer the call on my way to the bathroom. As I flick on the lights, Sam’s voice graces the air. “I’m not going to make anyone cry,” he says. “Why would you even think that?”

“Um, I don’t know,” I say, opening the medicine cabinet. “You’re holding a mock panel. I’ve made about fifteen different people cry in interviews.” Granted, they weren’t my own flesh and blood. But I can’t forget the intern who wouldn’t stop blubbering when I kept grilling him for a better answer to what’s your life’s biggest failure? And he legitimately kept telling me he had none.

His life was smooth.

Easy.

I ended up offering him a full-time position, and I told him I’d work him hard enough that he’d fail. That he’d have an answer to my question in a year minimum. Failure, it’s not bad. The best growth can come from failure.

Intern didn’t think so. He turned down the job.

Over the phone, Sam sighs heavily like he’s already over me. The threatening dog shit text probably didn’t help. “I’m not you,” he reminds me. “The mock panel isn’t an interrogation.”

“Then what is it?” I shake a couple B12 vitamins in my palm.

“A way to see how they handle talking to board members. Something they’d be doing on a daily basis. Not all of them respect authority.”

Charlie. He’s most definitely talking about our genius of a nephew, who’s a hard pill for many to swallow. So was I.

So am I. I pause, staring at myself in the mirror. My scowl sharpens my jawline, and I can’t seem to shake it. “If this is your way of just testing Charlie for the position, leave my kids out of it. I don’t need them jumping through all these fucking hoops to be crushed by an inevitable decision.”

“We’ve been over this. It’s not inevitable,” he says.

“Then it’s likely,” I say and pop the vitamins in my mouth. “Same difference.”

“It’s not the same,” Sam assures me. Like he’s assured me a thousand times since this rigmarole started, but I told him I’d be a pest buzzing in his ear if he went through with this competition. So here we are. “Anything else I can help you with?” he asks. “Or should I expect to clean dog shit out of my screened porch later?”

“Surprised you wouldn’t hire security just to keep me three hundred feet from your house,” I tell him.

“There’s no use,” he says. “You are inevitable.”

I smile, knowing for sure he didn’t realize he quoted Thanos to me. I’d tell him, “No, I am Iron Man,” but it’d blow over his head. Instead, I say, “Glad to hear you know me so well, Sammy.”

“Sure,” he says. “And I’ll make sure the board members go easy on Xander and Luna.”

I wince. “Don’t do that. I don’t need them thinking I’m trying to bubble wrap the process for them, and I don’t want them singled out from their cousins.”

“Consider it an equal and fair competition then,” he says. “Anything else?”

“Tell Poppy I said hi and that she needs to stop sending so many blueberry muffins. Lily is about to turn into Violet Beauregarde.” I cringe instantly. “Wait, don’t tell her that. Lil likes the muffins. I’m just being an asshole.” Lily’s sisters have been showering her with nothing but love and attention, and sometimes I think it might be a little overwhelming for her. But I shouldn’t be the one shutting it down. I don’t want to be that guy.

Sammy is too chill and nice because he says, “I’ll tell her to send banana nut.”

“Great,” I say with less bite. “Talk later?”

“Yeah, I’ll let you know how the panel goes.”

“I better be your first call.”

“Yeah, of course.” He says a quick goodbye before hanging up, and I try to roll the tension out of my shoulders. After I get dressed, I exit into the hallway and almost slam chest-first into my youngest son.

“Whoa,” I step back into the doorway.

“Sorry!” Xander hoists his hands like he’s about to be busted for stealing an infinity stone.

“You loitering the halls or are you waiting for me?” I ask, eyes narrowed. His hair is already combed, and he wears a crisply ironed blood-red suit. The same one from Homecoming last year. Never did I think he’d wear that bold of a color outside this house, let alone to a school dance.

Now he’s going to, technically, a job interview wearing the same one. And he looks incredible in it—like he could grace the cover of every kind of magazine from Fortune to Vogue to Architectural Digest, and it’s not even because of his classical good looks.

It’s his confidence. 

To say I’m proud—it’d be the understatement of the century.

But I do know he’s also been dealing with more stressors than normal. He blames himself for bailing on Putt Palace with his mom and sister. He thinks he should’ve been in the car with them, and I’ve been thanking every high being in existence that he wasn’t. That I didn’t have to see another one of my kids in the hospital.

Add in the Fizzle competition, college applications, and having to think about his future—he’s been shutting down a lot more than usual. I get one-word responses to questions. He sleeps in later. Doesn’t make his bed anymore. Small signs that have me more on guard. I can see something is wrong.

His mom can see it.

We suggested he add a day in therapy, but I don’t even know if it’s helping. And that’s what I’ve been feeling a lot these past few months. Goddamn helpless.

“I’m loitering and waiting. Both,” Xander says into a heavy nod. “I just have something to ask. And before you blow up, can you take some time to just consider it?”

“Let me hear what it is first, and then I’ll decide.” I flash a tight smile.

He groans. “Dad.”

“If you think I’m going to blow up, you’re already putting me on guard,” I tell him. “Obviously this is something I’m not going to like.”

“I don’t know that,” he mumbles.

“Then why the disclaimer?”

“Because…you’re you,” he tells me like that answers the question. Maybe it does. I’m not about to let my kids sail around the world. I wear the Strict Parent badge with pride. Because my dad didn’t care about my well-being, not enough—not in the right way. He didn’t care if I drank myself to death. Didn’t care if I broke every curfew. Didn’t check on me the next morning to see if I had a pulse.

Xander is eighteen. He made it to eighteen. I look at him now, and I see a young man ready to brace the world.

I feel myself ready to strangle the world if it tries to strangle him. Maybe that’s why I’m already on the defensive.

I hold up my hands. “I come in peace. I’ll give your question the appropriate amount of consideration.”

He releases a long breath. “Thank you. So…” He shifts his weight for a second. “You know Easton?”

I blink. “No, I have no idea who you’ve been bringing over the house the past three years. Could’ve been the Hamburglar or Ronald McDonald—”

“Okay, okay,” Xander says quickly. His lips quirk into a slanted smile. “I get it.”

“What about Easton?” I ask, now genuinely curious.

My son’s best friend lives in our gated neighborhood. I do recognize that kid is the main reason my kid smiles in the morning. Friendship, true friendship, has helped Xander in ways that Lil and I never could. But it’s not even why I’ve felt protective of him.

I don’t like that he escapes his house to come to ours.

I don’t like that he doesn’t love being at home. Because home should be the place you want to retreat to. It should never be the place you can’t stomach or stand.  

 “He’s not doing well. His dad went Mister Sinister on him and took away everything in his room except his box springs and a lamp. All because his grades aren’t good enough for him.” He pauses for a second, gauging my reaction. Most of my kids do this with me. Eke out a story to see if my Hot Pepper meter has risen.

I’m not even at a medium hot scale right now. We’re resting in mild territory.

“His parents are strict,” I say into a nod, already knowing this much about them. My Strict Parent badge has nothing on the Mulligan’s Strict Parent trophy. It’s a first-place award I’m glad I don’t have. There is a thing as too much.

“Yeah, super strict. Like over-the-top, ridiculous kind of strict,” Xander says. “He’s sleeping on box springs, Dad.”

My muscles are tight. “I can talk to them—”

“That won’t do anything. There are only a few months of school left.” He leans back on his heels like he’s bracing for impact. “Can he just finish out his senior year here with us?”

My brows shoot up. “You’re asking if he can live with us?”

“Yeah.”

I see so many paths where this goes wrong, and my first instinct is to protect my kid.

“No,” I say.  

He looks gut-punched. “You didn’t even take a second—”

“I don’t need a second,” I say. “It’s a hard no.”

Anger flares in his amber eyes. “Why?”

I have a difficult time piecing through my own thoughts and maybe I should have told him I needed a minute to think it over before blurting out my gut decision, but I’m not in that headspace. I haven’t been in that headspace in months. I’m a snap-to-it decision-maker these days. A speak-first, beg-for-forgiveness-in-a-year guy. I can’t process fast enough, so I just say, “Because I said so.”

It triggers Xander, and I don’t even blame him.

“Jesus, Dad!” he yells, face twisting. “He’s not doing okay there! Why can’t you see that?!” Hurt lances his eyes like I’ve taken one of his LARPing swords and shoved it into his stomach.

I keep my voice leveled. “I know he’s not doing great. I understand that. I do. But having your friend move in here is a huge change, and you’re already under so much stress.”

His hands fly to his head. “It’s not about me being stressed!”

“You’re my first priority—”

“I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine.” His eyes scream those words at me. I know what being fine looks like. God, I do. It’s not good. It’s not even okay. It’s just fine. “You know who’s not okay?” he asks me, then stares me down like he’s become the figment of my moral conscious.

I’m aware that I can’t just do nothing.

That I’ve taken in strays before. Maybe my soft spot is teenagers with shitty parents. Xander knows my past with his Uncle Garrison, but I don’t think he’d exploit that. It’s just written in history like a cemented part of our sacred timeline.

“They might say no, bub,” I tell him. “Even if I ask them for permission to let Easton stay here—it might not go how you want it. That disappointment on top of your senior year and Fizzle and college admissions is a lot—”

“I’m not going to kill myself!” Xander shouts. His words are a freight train coming at me, unable to stop. Fears press harder against me. Fears I’ve had that almost came to fruition. If he’s thinking about it—if that’s even on his mind…

“So you aren’t stressed?” I ask.

“Of course, I’m fucking stressed!” Xander screams, and the pain inside his eyes—I’ve seen before. Christ. How did we get here? My head whirls.

“Backtrack,” I tell him. “Take a breath, you and me. Let’s talk about this at an indoor decibel.” I inhale deeply, realizing I might have needed it more than him. “Okay, maybe we’re not gelling in communication. Honestly, it could be me. I’ve been feeling prickly lately.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, his biceps flexing against his suit, and he works his jaw before sudden empathy shades his amber eyes. “Yeah, I know. You’ve been going through a lot.”

“So have you,” I tell him. “And I just want you to understand where I’m coming from with this decision.”

“Well, I don’t fucking understand it,” he snaps, but there’s less bite than before. “How am I supposed to go to college if you don’t even trust that I’ll take disappointment well?”

I haven’t wanted to think about him in college.

Haven’t wanted to picture Xander on campus away from home. For most of his adolescence, he needed someone in or outside his bedroom door just so he wouldn’t…I can’t even bring myself to think the words. Jesus.

Being away from him. Not knowing if he’s okay. It’s going to kill Lily and me.

At least he has a friend.

Easton.

Goddammit.

I run a hand through my hair. “I’ll think about it. How’s that?”

He sighs heavily. “You can’t be afraid of me hitting a low, Dad. It’s going to happen.”

The honesty pulverizes me because I’ve warned the people I love of the same thing. You can’t be afraid of me relapsing. My blood runs colder, and I just wish my kid didn’t have to deal with something as monstrous as depression. Didn’t have to wake up in the morning fighting it.

I wish I could go to battle for him. Every damn day.

So maybe I take the fights I can win. Maybe I take this fight.

 I shove my feet into sneakers as I watch Donnelly back out of the driveway. I’d love to drop into the mock panel and watch, but I’m afraid it’ll just make Luna and Xander nervous. So I’m stuck waiting for Sammy’s updates.

Before I change my mind, I need to rip this Band-Aid off anyway. When I got downstairs, I asked Lil her thoughts on Easton Mulligan coming to live with us for the remainder of the school year. Her answer: Yes.

Not even a hesitation.

I didn’t think there would be when her heart is made of cotton candy and marshmallows. The tarred thing in my chest doesn’t exactly beat the same way.

Leaving the house, I head onto the neighborhood street. “It’s only three months,” I tell myself. “Their friendship won’t implode. And if the Mulligan’s say no, Xander will be disappointed, but he’ll survive. He’s going to survive this and college and life.” Saying it out loud is supposed to make me feel better. Thanks, therapy. But it’s not working like it sometimes does.

I end up at a mansion two streets over. The stucco recently painted a fresh white. Black shutters. Two ferns hang beside the deep oak door. I use the bronze door knocker, and after three tries, it swings open revealing a woman around my age with dark brown, nearly black, hair to her shoulders.

Lily’s length.

Almost exactly.

It throws me at first, and I force back a cringe. I’m blaming Rose for telling me Flora Mulligan has a disturbing obsession with Lily. It’s only documented through a fucking haircut. Other than that, they’re not similar. Rose is huffing carpet cleaner.

Flora has on gold hoop earrings and wears a long white tasseled shirt? Dress? I see the black straps of a bathing suit at her neck.

I’ve met her a handful of times before, mostly on amicable terms since I’ve wanted to preserve my kid’s friendship and not implode it with parent-drama. Mainly, she asks about filming for We Are Calloway. “Are the film crews going to be in the neighborhood? If you need an extra or a cameo, I can let you know if I’m available.”

As she holds on to the edge of the door, her face lights up. “Loren Hale.”

“Hi Flora,” I say. “Do you have a minute?”

“You caught me at a great time. I was just about to take a dip in the heated pool. We got it re-grouted this winter and installed new lights. You should come and see it in case you want to upgrade yours.” She opens the door wider for me.

I’m not going inside.

“No upgrade for us,” I say into a dry smile. “But thanks for the offer. Look, I have a question to ask you, and it might seem…outrageous, but just hear me out.”

Intrigue hits her eyes. “I’m all ears.” She gasps. “Is this about We Are Calloway?”

Jesus.

“It’s about your son,” I say. “And my son…”

Her lips flatline. “Hmmm. Is Easton causing trouble again?” She sighs heavily like her kid has been on her last nerve. “I swear he’s four-times the handful of his little sister and brother. You know how it is? Tell him to study and he plays video games. Tell him he needs to get better at chess and he takes archery lessons.” She rolls her eyes. “It’s like if I say go, he’ll stand still just to spite us.”

“Teenagers can be difficult. We all were in our own way, right?”

“Right.” She’s checking me out.

Great. I try to force another smile. “But Easton is a good kid—hey, where’s Arthur? I’d like to talk to him, too.”

“Artie is at work.”

Of course he is. I glare out at the manicured hedges, wondering if I should come back another day or do this over the phone.

“Easton doesn’t take things seriously enough,” Flora tells me, drawing my gaze back. “Not like I’m sure Xander does. Like your other son did. Maximoff. He got accepted to Harvard, didn’t he? You know, three different seniors in the neighborhood have already had early acceptances into Ivies. It can be frustrating”—she leans on the doorframe—“when you see your kid with so much potential and they’re just flushing it down the drain. He’s been given every single tool under the sun. Private tutors. Study abroad. And he still wastes it by dressing up as a fairy.”

“Elf,” I correct her, biting back the irritation bubbling in me.

“What?” she frowns.

“Never mind.” Everything she said brings me back to my father. The guilt associated with wasting the silver-platter I’d been given. The privilege. 

I wish Lil were here, if only so she could pinch me before I say something rude. Instead, I have to count to three in my head before speaking again. “Xander told me Easton’s been having trouble in school, and he thought maybe a new change of scenery would do Easton some good for the rest of the school year.”

She frowns, then her eyes go big like a lightbulb moment. “Is this that cruise ship that parents are sending their kids on to finish out school? I heard about that from…Tina down the street. They’re starting in the Med, I think. Are you thinking of sending Xander?”

Yeah. When I’ve had a lobotomy. He can cruise around the Mediterranean then. I can barely overcome the idea of sending him to college.

Thank God this school-on-a-boat shit is not actually something he’s interested in.

“I don’t know anything about a cruise ship. You’d have to take that one up with Tina. I’m actually thinking Easton could come live with us for the rest of the school year. He can study with Xander. Maybe figure out future plans for college together.”

She nods heartily. “Like a 24/7 study group. This is brilliant. And I’m sure Easton could pick up some tips from living with a CEO. Maybe we could call this an internship or better yet, a shadowing position.”

Christ, she is a vulture. “Yeah, sure. Whatever you want to call it.”

She claps her hands, smiles wider. “When can he start?”

I try not to be offended on Easton’s behalf that this was that easy. But I am offended. I’m angry. Pissed. That she’d throw him to a neighbor without a background check, without more questions or a fight. I didn’t even need to plead a case. She’s just handing him to me.

And she can say she knows me because I’m famous and she reads about me in Celebrity Crush. But it’s not the same as knowing someone. I could be an abusive piece of shit. I could be my father.

“You don’t need to talk to Arthur about it?” I ask.

“Oh…” She flushes. “I’m sure he’ll agree it’s worth it for Easton’s future.”

I nod a few times to temper my anger. I’m getting what I want. I just feel for him. His youth shouldn’t have been this way.

Easton—he’s not bad. He doesn’t vandalize mailboxes. He doesn’t douse doors in pig’s blood. Garrison and I were little punks at his age.

And yet, he’s being pawned off for a promised checkmark on his résumé. I’m not sure if they love him at all—or if they do, it’s warped.

“He can start tonight, if he wants,” I tell her. I’m sure he’d appreciate being out of this house immediately, but that’s his choice, too. If she’s pushing him this hard, I don’t want to know what his daily life has been like. Without a mattress, for starters.

And I sure as hell am not mentioning how this will not be a 24/7 study group. Xander has a life outside of schoolwork. He can play video games, drink too much soda, read comics, and watch movies. He’s not about to waste away his youth trying to achieve a perfect résumé.

She takes out her phone. “I’ll text him now. Tell him to come pack his things and get over to your house as soon as possible. There’s no time to waste.” Her lips purse. She angrily types. “He thinks he’s busy, but I bet he’s slacking off somewhere. Arthur won’t be happy about this.” She sighs. “It’ll be a minute. You’re going to have your hands full.”

“Whenever he’s ready. I’m on his timeline. It could start in an—”

“No, he’s coming now.” She grits down, then smiles at me like she forgot who’s here. “You sure you wouldn’t want to come in? I can have my chef make some lunch—”

“No thanks,” I say into a tight smile. “I need to get back to Lily.”

She blushes. “Right.”

“I’ll tell her you say hi,” I say as I step off her front stoop.

She waves and calls out, “Keep in touch!”

Unfortunately, I have to open that gateway between me and the Mulligans. A small price to pay. Lily and I would probably agree Easton was paying something higher.

As I walk home, guilt stings. Because I was about to leave that kid in that house. He’s already eighteen, and maybe I could’ve done something sooner.

I rub at my tired eyes, feeling like every decision I make is wrong lately.

This one was right, I tell myself.

God, I hope so. I don’t know if I could survive another casualty. Even if that casualty is a friendship between my son and the neighborhood kid.

Thanks so much for reading this month's main bonus, and thank you for your patience this month! We knew this scene would be really interesting to write from Lo's POV and we were feeling the found family vibes for this month, so we were pumped to dive back into his headspace. It was also one of your suggestions for potential bonus scenes from NLU! Lo has a lot going on in Luna's books, so it's been a treat to get his perspective. We hope you enjoyed it!

There's another bonus on the horizon for April! We're going to keep the POV a surprise, but we think a lot of you will be super excited about this one. Stay tuned :D

xoxo Krista & Becca 

"The Mulligans," Copyright © 2024 by K.B. Ritchie